


Open Your Eyes

by Sorin



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Male Miqo'te (Final Fantasy XIV), NSFW
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-28
Updated: 2019-08-28
Packaged: 2020-09-28 14:36:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,844
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20427575
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sorin/pseuds/Sorin
Summary: Set in early/mid Shadowbringers; Thancred's behavior as of late earns him your displeasure, and you mean to correct the path he's on before it leads him somewhere he can't return from. Contains SPOILERS through the MSQ up to lv. 78.





	Open Your Eyes

**Author's Note:**

> Ever since that cutscene where Y'shtola absolutely savages Thancred in front of the WoL and everyone else I've been REALLY wanting to explore Thancred's actions and reasoning, and I mean, this is my favorite pairing- sorry, Aymeric and Crystal Exarch :D;;; - and I've yet to write for it.
> 
> SO HERE IT IS.
> 
> Obviously this is explicit, and the WoL in this is male, so if that's not your thing I'd suggest that you maybe stop reading when things get spicy toward the end.

You are on a mission when you finally extricate yourself from the other business in the Crystarium that demands your attention. The Pendants is, luckily, where the other Scions live as well- just down the hall, in fact, is the room you seek. You square your shoulders and draw yourself up to your full height, _not enough to be intimidating, unfortunately,_ you think, but that can’t be helped, and lift your hand to knock. Your tail lashes irritably behind you, and you cross your arms and wait with no small degree of impatience. When the door opens, your eyes widen a little as your arms relax- you hadn’t quite expected this. Thancred is home, yes, and alone as well- which comes as somewhat of a surprise, you think wryly- but he looks _exhausted._ You are no stranger to that look, having seen it often enough in the mirror, but he’s always seemed so… composed, _put-together,_ around you and the others. It’s almost enough to make your resolve waver…

… and then you think of the anguish in Minfilia’s eyes, and you set your jaw.

Thancred raises an eyebrow at you, but steps back to allow you in. The look he casts you as you walk by is one part resignation and one part warning- he is in no mood to be scolded. Unfortunately, a scolding is _exactly_ what you plan on giving him, and your tail lashes as you turn toward him when the door is closed behind you. “Don’t start,” he begins, but you interrupt him.

“She thinks you hate her,” you say, your voice even. Despite everything you’ve faced, the two Lightwardens you’ve laid low, something about the look in Thancred’s eyes makes you nervous, and you pin your ears- but you continue even still. “She thinks you can’t stand to be around her.”

The rogue eyes you warily, sets his jaw and slowly shakes his head. “Don't interfere,” he warns, his voice low and dark. “Do not presume to understand _any_ of this. Warrior of Light you may be, but this is not your place.”

Were you a feline in actuality, your back would be arched. Instead you gaze back at him calm and impassive, a silent buffer in the face of the growing storm inside of him. “Why do you think she confided in _me,_ of all people?” you ask coolly. “She’s known me for ten minutes, yet even still she took me aside to tell me this. She cares about you, and you treat her like-!”

“Enough!” Thancred snaps at you- the first time you’ve ever been the target of his ire. You remember back to when Emmanellain de Fortemps challenged him, though his presumptions were incorrect- the lordling had struck first, at least, but Thancred hadn’t hesitated to respond in kind… and it was him doing so that had stopped _you_ from the same. Still, you aren’t Emmanellain, and you catch his gaze and hold it fast. Your ears remain pinned and your tail is fluffed to twice its normal size- you are ready to defend yourself, if you have to. You hope you won’t, because truly… you _do_ like him, you _do_ care about him, and you have for a very long time. “You don’t know the half of it, of _any_ of it, so _don’t_ think to tell me how to conduct myself!”

“Someone needs to,” you counter, “because you’re going to crush her spirit if this keeps on, and I _won’t_ let you do that!” Your hands clench into fists as his eyes narrow, but you’re not going to stop now, not having come this far already- you’ll make an impression one way or another, and he’ll either straighten up or he can take himself and his temper _elsewhere_ in Norvrandt. “Damn you, Thancred, open your eyes! She’s not the Minfilia we knew, but she’s still a _person!_”

“You have gone far beyond overstepping your bounds,” Thancred snarls. He is _furious_ now, and your nerves tingle with warning as he takes a step toward you. “You should leave. _Now._”

You wonder if perhaps you should, but you stand your ground even as your heart races and adrenaline floods you. “Not until I get it through your thick skull that none of us will let you continue on like this,” you snap in response. “We care about you, we-!” You are abruptly interrupted when he lunges forward and shoves you, _hard,_ and you reel backward until you slam into the wall by the window, grunting in surprise and from the force of the hit. He advances with you, grabs hold of your collar and pins you to the stone- if you want to get away now, you’ll have to hurt him.

There’s a hint of surprise in Thancred’s gaze as he glares at you- perhaps he hadn’t figured on doing this, or perhaps he has begun questioning the wisdom of doing so, given that you are who you are. Either way, he doesn’t back down, instead sets his jaw as his glare darkens. “I am doing _everything_ for her,” he shouts, “_everything! _Nothing else matters to me but keeping her safe- she is a _child!_”

“She is a child,” you agree, holding his gaze once more and refusing to back down even as he tightens his grip on your jacket. “_You_ are _not._” It’s your turn to warn him, now, and you bare your teeth slightly and tense. “Take it out on me if you must, I can more than handle it, but _she can’t._” You are honestly not sure what he’ll do next. He stares at you, searches your gaze as though you hold the answer to some existential question that weighs him down… and then he slumps just a little. He looks _truly_ exhausted now, the bruises beneath his eyes speaking plainly of the life he’d spent on the run with her for the past three years. He’d not even been able to rest in the Crystarium, not truly- not until the Exarch had cast his lot behind them. You are a little surprised as his grip relaxes, and slowly, you bring your hands up to rest on his shoulders. “We care about you,” you say quietly, “_I_ care about you. This is tearing you to shreds, and I can’t, I _can’t_ let you continue on like you have been.”

He lets you go abruptly and turns away, walking a few paces from you and bowing his head. You can see him shaking, _gods_, how you wish it hadn’t come to this- but now, perhaps, things will begin to change. He says nothing, and slowly, you move away from the wall and go to stand nearby. He flinches just a bit, shakes his head and looks away. “You should go,” he says again, his voice a quiet monotone.

That, you think, is _far_ worse than his yelling in your face had been.

Though Thancred is a man who’s never lacked companionship in his life and _likely_ only spent nights alone by choice, you don’t recall seeing him with anyone who might have gotten through to him- not in the Waking Sands, nor the Rising Stones, nor on the First. He keeps a large berth from everyone, walls taller than the Holy See itself, and lets none close to him. His behavior, you realize all of a sudden, is rooted in _fear_\- fear that he will lose her, that he will fail again. You press your lips together, then settle your mind and move to stand in front of him. “Look at me,” you say quietly, your ears slowly lifting, and when he reluctantly does so, you reach out and take hold of his hands, still clenched into tight fists. “You’ve carried this alone for so many years… won’t you let me help you?”

Not _us,_ but _me._ The distinction is clear, and the surprise on his face is almost comical- would be, if the situation weren’t so dire. His lips part a bit as his eyes widen ever so slightly. Has _nobody_ offered to help him in all seriousness before, _ever?_ You’re not sure, but his reaction seems to indicate that it is very possible indeed. “You… have done enough,” he finally says quietly, and those words hit you like a backhanded slap across the face. You can’t help it- you lean back a bit and your ears flatten to your head. He takes a breath and lets it out in a soft huff, lifting a hand in a gesture of peace even as he shakes yours off to do so… but the other hand he relaxes, turns slightly to allow your grip. “I don’t mean it as it sounds. You have done enough for _me,_ I can’t…” He trails off.

Ah, you think- Lahabrea. The Ascian still haunts him, dogs his every step despite being entirely dead. The first thing you’d done when you saw Thancred again after that was to tell him the news, to bring him some measure of peace… but it hadn’t worked, not like you’d hoped. That, you think sadly, was the one thing you _had_ been able to do of him- the only other request he’d made of you, feverish and intense, was to _bring Minfilia back_ when you prepared to venture into the Antitower… and you’d failed. “You can,” you say quietly, slowly tightening your grip on his hand. “We are friends- even if you’re rightly angry with me now.” That, you think, is saying nothing for how angry _you_ are, but seeing him so defeated has put a damper on it. You don’t regret what happened, though you wish it hadn’t needed to. You pause, then the corners of your lips quirk. “If you’d like it to be even, however, you _did_ stop Ran’jit from cutting me in half- so I would say we are even.”

That surprises him, and though he doesn’t smile back, he lets his breath out and glances away before looking back at you. “I literally just slammed you into the wall and held you there, and here you are, offering to help me.”

You blink, then shrug. “What can I say? I like it rough.” The words are meant to be flippant, but they hold far more weight than you intended them to. He is not too much for you to handle, temper and all, and you are not afraid of him. You give his hand a gentle squeeze, which makes him look down at them in surprise- perhaps he forgot you are still holding on, or perhaps he’d just assumed you would let go. The look he gives you next is unreadable.

“Speaking of that,” he says, “you’ve just put another Lightwarden to the sword. You need to rest.” He looks away again, carefully lets go of your hand and nods slightly. “I will think on what you’ve said.”

He doesn’t thank you, of course, and you don’t expect him to. You nod slightly as well and take a step back. “All right.” You turn to go and then glance over your shoulder, but he is gazing blankly toward the window- he clearly needs time to sort himself, and you pray to every single one of the Twelve that he does so _quickly,_ before he does Minfilia- and himself- true, lasting harm. You slip out quietly and return to your own room, then sigh and rub at the back of your neck. A _long_ soak is in order- you’re tied in knots after that. Not knowing what’s coming next bothers you, at least a little, but all you can do now is roll with it… so you head to the bathroom and turn on the tap. The only way to go is forward.

When next you find yourself alone with him, you are in Rak’tika Greatwood, a place that reminds you of the Shroud. Things had improved by virtue of not getting worse, at least until Y’shtola turned on him- your ears pin just _thinking_ about that. You are torn between helping Minfilia and helping Thancred, but you decide to chase him down- she is, at least, in good hands with Urianger. Thancred will just have to deal with yours, such as they are. Though you are good at tracking he is _far_ better at stealth, and finding him proves entirely impossible for at least a bell- if not two. When you finally do, you have a sneaking suspicion it is because he’d wanted you to. He hasn’t returned to Slitherbough but instead is by the waterfall to the north, and _damn him_ but you’ve been here _three times_ already—

You sigh a little and walk over to the rock he’s sitting on, then climb up easily and sit down next to him. “You,” you say blandly, “are a difficult man to find.”

“You can thank Master Louisoix for that.” He doesn’t look at you, but he does seem calmer- and, perhaps, a bit more relaxed thanks to your presence.

There isn’t much you can think to say, for all the time you’ve spent searching. Nothing quite comes to mind, and after a _very_ public humiliation like that… well. Your ears droop and you look down at the small creek below, watching the crystal-clear water as it burbles past. Finally, you give in and look up at him again, reach out hesitantly and put a hand on his shoulder. “Thancred…”

He still doesn’t look at you, but he speaks quietly. “Many people assumed me in love with her,” he says, his voice still oddly flat. “That could not be further from the case. I was unable to save her father, many years ago… and due to my failure then, she lost the only family she had. She was very young, younger than she is now, and I was seventeen winters old. F’lhammin took her in, raised her as her own, and I did my poor best to drink myself into an early grave and help at the same time. I was consumed with guilt.” He pauses, then shrugs bitterly. “It was easier than facing what I’d helped cause.”

You are, to say the least, _surprised._ You’d never thought them a couple, but it was clear they shared an unbreakable bond. Seeing her here now, like this, after going through hell and back fighting the Warriors of Darkness on the Source… you bow your head briefly, then turn slightly towards him and look at him. “You have a good heart, you know,” you say quietly. “… perhaps one of the best I’ve seen. So you aren’t perfect- it comes as no surprise to hear that none of us are. Y’shtola spoke harshly, yes, but… so did I.”

He snorts and glances at you. “You, at least, waited until we were alone,” he says dryly. “The very last thing I need is to be torn apart by someone I call a friend in the full view of others, and _her._” He looks away again and shakes his head. “Done is done, I’ll survive it. I always do.” He rises abruptly and looks down at you. “Come. There’s work to be done, and sulking will get none of it started.” He hops down from the rock and begins to walk away, though he does pause and glance back at you- and when you follow him, somewhat mystified, he turns and continues on.

Night falls- or rather, what passes for it with the damnable Light in the sky- and you lay silently in your bed, staring up at the earthen ceiling. You do _not_ like being underground, though the room is at least cheerful- you want out, and _now._ You rise from your bed and pull trousers and tunic on, tail swishing in agitation as you lace your boots, then open the door and nearly hit the ceiling. You hadn’t expected seeing anyone there, _much_ less Thancred, with his hand poised to knock- and you sag a bit, putting a hand to your racing heart. “You’re trying to kill me,” you accuse halfheartedly.

He smirks a bit and shakes his head. There’s a pause, then his lips quirk in amusement- he seems in better humor now, in any case. “Your tail,” is all he says- and all he needs to, you know without looking that it is once again fluffed as far as it will go. “Well, seeing as how you’ve saved me the trouble of knocking…”

You blink, then take a step back. “Come in,” you invite. He does, and you close the door behind him, wondering what he might have come by for- and latch it, just in case the conversation isn’t fit to be interrupted by someone barging in seeking the Warrior of Darkness. There’s always _something,_ you think irritably, but whatever it is, for now, can wait.

He looks around the room, then turns to you. “I will never understand those who voluntarily live underground,” he says. “If I ever had a fear of being buried alive, this place exacerbates it tenfold.”

“That’s why I was going out,” you say blandly. “I’ll sleep in a tree over this, any day at all.” You tilt your head. “Is something wrong?”

“No.” Thancred pauses, then corrects himself. “… or rather, if it is, I would make it right.” He looks at you, golden-brown eyes pensive. “I’ve spent a great deal of time thinking over what you said to me in the Crystarium and have come to the conclusion that you were right- and I deserved the kick in the backside you gave me.”

You blink. That is somehow not what you expected, but… he _had_ seemed a bit more tolerant of your presence since then, even if he often didn’t speak to you outside the necessary. That was true of everyone, however, and so it hadn’t fazed you much. “That’s good to hear,” you say slowly. “I… think?”

He snorts and shrugs. “Well,” he says, “it’s that or earn an ear-blistering from everything, and truth be told, my friend- you were not the first.” He closes his eyes and turns his face slightly to the side. “I suppose I require a good deal of force to get something through my head. Moreover…” He slowly looks back at you. “… slamming you against the wall was hardly my finest hour. I have… no excuse for my behavior- I can only say how sorry I am for it.”

You smile faintly and shake your head. “Don’t worry over it,” you say. “I’m not fragile.” You aren’t, truly, but gods… you hadn’t wanted that to happen, _any_ of it, and you’d lost a fair bit of sleep over it in the end.

“I know. I’ve seen that much firsthand.” He studies you for a moment, then glances up at the ceiling. He seems to be considering something. “I’m sure it comes as no surprise that it’s difficult for me to manage my emotions. I’ve always found it far easier to hide behind a silver tongue and a flask. I thought I was prepared to see her again, but when I spoke with her in Nabaath Araeng…” He sighs and pushes a hand through his hair. “Well. Suffice it to say I was not. I have spoken with her since Y’shtola’s outburst and I believe all is well, which left me to you.” He looks at you again, his expression still somewhat difficult to read- it truly _is_ hard for him to let his guard down, you think. “There is much and more that will demand my utmost attention from here forward. You… have helped clear my head, at least some, and for that I thank you.”

You wonder if he will ever really find peace from this, or if it will haunt him for the rest of his life. Slowly, you walk over to him and put a friendly hand on his shoulder. “I don’t want to see you suffer,” you say quietly. “I know- I don’t know personally, but I’ve seen a little of how hard this is on you.” You pause, then flick your ears and smile. “You aren’t alone, Thancred. You have me, all of us- let us make your life easier, for once.”

He snorts faintly. “You do nothing but drag me into trouble at every opportunity,” he counters, but he looks happier- a slight smile appears on his face, warming his eyes a bit. “I’m glad for it, and glad to know you… and to have you as a friend. Thank you.”

Impulsively, you lean up and brush a kiss against his cheek- you’ll never know what drove you to do it, only that a heartbeat later his hands are at your waist and he’s leaned over slightly to catch you in a proper kiss, one that quickly becomes fierce. You are dizzy at the suddenness of it, gasping faintly into it and putting your hands on his arms, not to push him away, but for want of a better place to put them- at least for the moment, until your mind stops chasing its tail. “Oh,” you breathe against his mouth, and he draws back just enough to look at you- then you kiss him again, dizzy and breathless and _gods_ but he is _good_ at this-!

When the kiss breaks you are both breathing faster, golden-brown eyes gazing into yours and seeking… approval? Well, if that’s it, he certainly has it and _plenty_ of it. You have been utterly starved for touch in the past few moons, and having always found him very attractive, this isn’t a chance you’re going to pass up. You settle one of your hands on his chest, feel his heart racing beneath your palm, and kiss him again and once more for good measure before you find yourself backed up to the wall- this time with _far_ more care. He reaches for the hem of your tunic even as you push his jacket off of his shoulders, but he doesn’t let you go further- not yet. He kisses you breathless, trails kisses to your temple and whispers _let me_ into your ear, and you think there is _very little_ you wouldn’t let him do at this point. He tugs his gloves off and lets his jacket fall to the floor, and then turns his attention back to you- and the heat in his gaze makes you melt a little. The tunic you wear is _very_ easily removed and forgotten, and perhaps he’s surprised that you’re wearing so little- it’s rather rare for you to be seen without your armor. Still, he runs his hands appreciatively over your shoulders and down your sides, and you sigh softly and tug him a little closer- how _warm_ he is in the cool air of the hollowed-out room. His mouth drifts to your jaw, then your neck, and you tip your head and whimper just a little- holding back during sex is not your strongest suit, but when you think on it you have walls of _solid earth_ around you- how much sound can really travel through them?

You’d rather not know, you think. You’d rather just enjoy this.

He carefully forces your chin up by trailing his lips over your throat, pressing a gentle kiss to your collarbone before dipping his tongue into the hollow. That sends electricity zinging through you, and your head falls back to rest against the cave wall as he continues further. He is gentle with you, careful, seeking out what you like best even as he traces your scars with soft lips. You have a feeling you know where this is going, and your breath comes faster yet as he kisses down your flat stomach and teasingly dips his tongue into your navel, wringing a breathless laugh that quickly cuts off as his fingertips trail along the edge of your trousers. The look he gives you this time is full of promise, and you are left praying that you won’t embarrass yourself. You’d like to reciprocate, you think, and is it _really fair_ that you’re the only one who will be undressed?, but all those thoughts are chased from your mind as the laces of your trousers come undone and a searing hot kiss is pressed against your hipbone. He tugs your trousers and smallclothes down and out of the way, though he is exquisitely careful with your tail- he takes a moment to run his fingers through your fur, to stroke the sensitive skin at the base and then to smirk up at you as he slowly draws his hands down toward the tip. _What_ he has in his mind you have no real idea, but you’re desperate to find out, and you do when he lifts it carefully and draws it along your inner thighs. _This_ is a first, you have to admit, and having him do it drives you wild- he is careful not to bend it the wrong way, making certain you’re comfortable with what he’s doing- and it’s with bright eyes that he draws it slowly up the length of you, along the vein beneath. You can’t help the sound that spills from your lips at that- he’s _teasing_ you, _with your own tail,_ and you only beg for more as you claw at the wall behind you. You keep your nails short, because the last thing you need is to worry about catching one during combat, but it certainly doesn’t stop you- you’re desperate for a firmer touch, and it isn’t long before he rewards your patience.

His hands are warm and gentle, though calloused from a lifetime with a blade of _some_ sort in hand- his gloves had spared him some, and you can only be very appreciative as he trails his fingertips along the same path he’d forged with the tip of your tail, which now flicks erratically as you struggle with yourself to keep your hips from bucking forward. The look he gives you tells you that he very much appreciates what he sees, and then your vision goes white at the edges as warm hands grip your hips to steady you. _Really,_ the thought of him of all people on his knees for you is a bit much, but here you are, and _by the Twelve but he is GOOD at this!_ You’re no slouch yourself, however, and you vow that you’ll have your chance- later, when he isn’t slowly taking you in as far as he can. You carefully tangle one hand in his hair, though you don’t push him- and the glance upward from beneath long lashes, the color splashed across his cheeks and nose to match your own, tells you that he approves. There is a lot of trust inherent in that, and the back of your head hits the cave wall again as you try to remember how to breathe. His hair is _so_ soft, and you idly distract yourself with that as a familiar tension begins to build deep within you, as you whimper and lift your other hand to your mouth- then drop it to your chest, restless and not sure of what to do next. It is your own heartbeat you feel now, strong and quick beneath your hand, and you let out a groan through clenched teeth as he pushes you _further._ You’re unable to help yourself as you press your hips forward a little, and this, he allows- though you at least have the presence of mind to be careful, the wet heat wrapped around you gives you _very_ little leeway toward coherent thought. He draws back nearly all the way and flutters his tongue against the tip, _how?_, but you can’t think about anything anymore- he swiftly takes you as far as he can again, using his fingers on what he can’t, and you are coming apart for him with a shout of his name and fingers clenched in his hair as your heart pounds against your palm.

He catches you when your knees buckle in the aftermath, and you slump breathlessly against him- though you do lean up to kiss him as best you can between gasps for air. It does not escape you that he’s still fully dressed save the white coat, and you _do_ have a plan to remedy that, but your head feels like it’s full of cloud cotton. For now you simply breathe, enjoy his arms wrapped around you as he settles you against his body, leaning back against the wall in your place… ah- _perfect._ This gives you exactly what you need, and you’ll move… in just a moment, when you’re not so comfortably tucked against him. He seems content to stay where he is, but you can feel a tension in him that speaks of wanting the same treatment he’d just given you, and it’s with a grin that you draw back just a moment later and look down at him. He looks back at you, perhaps a little surprised, and your grin widens as you catch him in a kiss that, hopefully, leaves him reeling just as much as you are. What he wears beneath his jacket seems to be more armor-like than you’d first imagined, which makes sense given his newly-honed skills with his gunblade, and it is _very lucky indeed_ that you are adept at the workings of armor. You take your time in finding all the buckles and straps as you keep your mouth sealed to him, as you relish the way he tastes and the way he pants softly against your lips. He has had _so_ little cause for happiness and relaxation, and given that he’d started it- mostly- you are well-tempted to reward him for it. You’ve never really seen him in any state of undress save for what skin that _incredibly_ well-fitted sleeveless jacket he wears on the Source reveals, and you _do_ love how strong his arms are. Your tail traces a mischievous trail behind you as you manage to wrangle him out of his breastplate and the black undershirt beneath, and he saves you the trouble of having to wait later by drawing back for just a moment to remove his boots. Once pushed aside he is left only in _very_ tight trousers, and they grant him no modesty- not now. Just seeing him flushed and clearly wanting you leaves you breathless, and you perch astride his thighs and set about driving _him_ wild.

He doesn’t shy away from showing you his approval, though he is perhaps less vocal than you are. He shivers a little and draws his hands along your back, plays with your ears as you kiss his neck, trace the Archon tattoo with the tip of your tongue and nip at his earlobe in retaliation. This catches him by surprise, and he gasps a bit, then laughs- _laughs_\- quietly, a low, rich sound that goes straight down your spine and to the tip of your tail. You find you like that _very_ much, and so you do it again just to earn yourself a soft, pleased sound, and then you trail kisses down further to the juncture of neck and shoulder. This he seems _very_ happy with, and when you suck hard enough to leave a mark, bite down and then soothe the skin with your tongue, he tips his head back and presses upward with a gasp. You grin to yourself as you trail down lower, teasingly brushing your tongue along sensitive skin as you go. His heart beats fast and hard beneath your touch, he is clearly worked up from this and what he’d done for you before, and so you have mercy on him… sort of. You scoot back and grin at him, still perched on his legs, and he catches his breath- and then you give him no time to think as you take your turn, as you unlace his breeches and draw him out eagerly. He lets his breath out in a shaky huff, the blush on his face far darker now, and you grin as you lick your lips and his eyes widen in response. Ah, so he’d thought you a bit tamer than you are? Well, well. Your grin widens, and then you leave him wondering what to expect as you brace your hands on the floor on either side of his hips.

There’s a faint gasp of your name before careful hands settle on your shoulder, before one drifts to your hair- and then he is stroking your ears again, almost as if to keep himself grounded. You don’t mind, it feels wonderful, and you act like you’re going to return the favor right away before instead shifting to press hot, wet kisses to his hipbones. You leave marks there, where only he- and hopefully _you, _later- will see, proof plain of your attraction to and fondness for him. He is nearly begging by the time you draw back, this time rising and taking his hands to haul him up with you. He is strong, but so are you, and it’s an easy thing for you to lift him up off of the floor like this. He takes this chance to kiss you fiercely, forcing your spine into a tight arch as he bends ever so slightly over you, and you groan into it as you feel him pressing hard and hot against your belly. _Maybe,_ you think, an entirely different sort of retaliation is in order- and so you waste no time in hooking your fingers in his waistband and practically peeling his trousers off of him, crouching down as you do so you can kiss and nip along firmly-muscled thighs. A particularly hard bite to his inner thigh earns you a soft grunt of surprise, and then he is kicking the fabric away and grabbing you up, pulling you flush against him and kissing you almost frantically. Ah, but you’ve been teasing… it’s time to do one better. You grin and step back, pushing him onto the bed, and grab a jar of healing salve from your bag before resuming your position astride his thighs. Golden-brown eyes land on it and he sucks in a slow breath, licks his lips before looking back up at your face.

You open the jar, lift one hand to rest lightly at your collarbone while the other dips inside and then slips between your legs, and he drops his head back and groans faintly before pushing himself up to watch what you’re doing. You’ve done this before, and more times than you can count- how better to relax when your mind won’t stop racing- and you’re glad for the experience as you keep your gaze on his, slowly pressing one finger in, then two. It’s been a minute since you’ve had time enough alone to do more than the basics, but you’re patient… and, well, watching him as he watches you is enough of a motivator to take your sweet time. You whimper just a little as you do so, roll your hips and feel the fire inside of you slowly beginning to ignite again, and curling them _just so_ makes you whine and shudder. His hands are hot on your hips, his grip tight, and you can tell he wants to touch you- so you toss your head back and put your other hand behind you, leaning back a bit and arching towards him. There’s nothing wrong with enjoying yourself, and besides, _he_ certainly is. His hand on you is a marvel, even as it makes you tremble, and by the time you’ve finished teasing him you’re more than ready. All that’s left to do now is to decide _how,_ and you start to move over him- but he sits up and braces himself against the headboard, pulls you close and then turns you away from him. _Ah,_ you think, and then you can think of nothing else, because he is slowly lowering you onto him even as he pulls you taut against his body. Kneeling as you are, it’s certainly a good thing that you’re flexible- you wouldn’t want to miss this, not for _anything._ He wraps one arm around you and holds you tight while the other drops to stroke you, well recovered from your last climax, and you curl your fingers and your tail as he urges you forward. This angle is _lovely_ and you really will have to remember it for later, but right now you can’t think beyond each breath that explodes from your lungs as he drives you to the edge of your reasoning.

A moment more and you pull away, and he is surprised- you turn to face him, tug him with you as you fall back onto the mattress and draw your knees up to your chest. _This_ is your favorite, however, and you are more than wanting to indulge in it with him- and so he obliges, easily moving over you and inside of you, and you wind arms and legs around him and cling to him as he takes complete control. He wastes no time and you are glad for it, mewling and whimpering and _begging_ him for more, _more,_ and he grants your wish- one slight lift of your hips, a slight shift in angle, and you see stars explode in your vision. He grins when he sees the look on your face and continues on _just_ like that, and _gods almighty_ but you are sure you’ll lose yourself- and when you do you lock your arms and legs around him, lift yourself up off of the mattress, which makes him gasp and grit his teeth as his brow furrows. The force of your climax drags him over the edge with you, drags the sweetest sound from him that you’ve ever heard as it takes the shape of your name. You both drop back down to the mattress in a sweaty heap, and you are _more_ than glad for his weight on top of you- you can feel his heart beating rapidly against yours, can feel each panting breath, and you are thankful for all of it.

He withdraws a few moments later, earning a disappointed sound from you- but he flops down next to you and you immediately make yourself comfortable, pillowing your head on his shoulder and tangling your legs together, resting your tail atop the rest. _Now_ you are weary enough to sleep and to not care that you’re underground, and it’s with a quiet chuckle that he grabs one of the wayward blankets and drags it up over you both. It’s clear that you’ve no interest in letting him leave, and he is perfectly content to stay- and so you fall asleep held close, and decide that you’ll take as many more of _these_ nights as you can get, thank you very much.

Waking in his arms the following morning is as surprising as it is pleasant, and you are more than happy to indulge a bit more- after all, you don’t _have_ to drag out at the crack of dawn, and another bell won’t matter. You aren’t good at taking time for yourself, but you will damn sure make time for _him,_ and so you do- you scatter kisses all over his face and down his neck, across his shoulders and chest, and you hold him close as you love him with all the ferocity you have in you… and after, when you’ve cleaned up and are dressing for the day, you find that he looks relaxed and peaceful. You smile a little as you securely clasp your armor in place, then walk over to him and lift a hand to cup his jaw. He kisses you gently, carefully, then glances toward the door before sighing faintly.

“… last night was the first time I’d slept uninterrupted by nightmares- I can’t remember how long it’s been.” He pauses, then favors you with a soft, warm smile. “Thank you… for that, for all of this.”

You smile back at him, steal one last kiss- it may be a little while before you get to have him to yourself, again and from the look he gives you, you are _sure_ you will. “I should be thanking you,” you say, amused, “although I’m not sure I’ll be able to walk a straight line for a little while.” He actually colors at that, and you laugh as the two of you head out into the Light. Once you’ve torn it from the sky, you think whimsically, perhaps you’ll have the opportunity to have him beneath the stars… and it is with _that_ motivation in the back of your mind that you grin to yourself and join the rest of your friends. There is, unfortunately, work to be done- there always is- but the next break in it is something you are _dearly_ looking forward to… and a quick glance at him, the way he briefly meets your gaze, shows that he is thinking along the same lines.

Hopefully, you think, it won’t be very long at all.


End file.
